


Steal, Borrow, Refer, Save Your Shady Inference

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence - Resident Evil 6, Clone Sex, Clones, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, Filming, M/M, Oral Sex, Resident Evil 6 Spoilers, Sex Tapes, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29736753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: Kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocentAlternatively,You've heard of Eggda (Egg-Ada), now get ready for Eggeon (Egg-Leon)
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Undisclosed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Steal, Borrow, Refer, Save Your Shady Inference

Oh, he was going to be sick.

They were everywhere, slumped over and melted, oozing their viscous, sticky residue all over the walls and floor. Thank god that most had remained stuck inside of their tubes, contained within glass walls and odd, bubbly liquid. The rest of the lab was just as disgusting, cobbled together in the old, damp ruins beneath the cathedral. It smelled of rot and decay, a stench that permeated the air and clung to every bit of clothing that it came into contact with.

He was going to need a shower when this was all over. Scratch that, several showers.

Leon stepped gingerly around another pile of goop, wrinkling his nose. He was separated from Helena for the time being, working their way through a part of the lab that housed twin corridors. Some doors could only be opened from the other side of the walls, cranks and keypads that required a human touch. Frankly, he wasn't comfortable with splitting up. In his experience, it rarely ended well. Helena had insisted, however, that they carry on. She was after something, something that she was apparently too busy to explain. Even more than splitting up, Leon hated secrets. He'd been screwed over too many times, kept in the dark and jockeyed around until he barely knew who he could trust. 

This was worse. This was personal. 

Up until this point, he hadn't found room to grieve, to step back and process how unfair it was that a virus had taken Adam from him. His closest friend, his boss, the person he trusted most, the _President of the United States._

"I'm sorry." He breathed out, raising his arm to wipe sweat away from his brow. "I'm sorry, Adam. I'll catch them, I swear." 

Off to his right, a glint caught his eye, something tucked away under a pile of loose papers. Leon glanced around before moving over. He skimmed the text, but most of it was stained and illegible. There was something there about infection rates, but that knowledge was fairly useless when the whole damn city was already infected. Brushing the papers aside, he picked up the shiny thing that had caught his eye. It was a key card, boasting a crest that he was unfamiliar with. It appeared to be a celtic knot of some sort, but for all he knew, it could have been cat scratch. Leon pocketed the card anyway before continuing on. 

He'd learned after Raccoon that it was best to keep keys, cranks, and other odds and ends close at hand. You never knew when you'd be chased by a seven foot tall monstrosity and need a quick escape. Or a giant insect. Or a mechanical statue. Or a fourteen foot tall monstrosity. He'd almost forgotten about the enormous tyrants he'd faced while in the Eastern Slav Republic. Almost.

After a long stretch of empty hallway, he came upon an intersection with two doors that branched off the main path. Leon looked over both of them, absentmindedly running his finger over the trigger guard of his gun. One door had the same twisty symbol from the key card, and he decided to give it a look. Nudging his communicator, he flipped the switch that allowed him to talk to Helena.

"I've found a locked door, I'm gonna check it out really quick." He said. Ignoring her warning about running out of time, he slid the key card into the reader beside the archway, watching the light flicker and turn green. A loud buzz announced that the door was unlocked, and it slid open a few inches until a _chunk!_ announced that it had become jammed. Leon cursed before holstering his gun and gripping the heavy steel frame. Shoving his body weight against it, he managed to force it open a few more inches, just enough for him to shimmy through. He quickly drew his weapon again, scanning the room.

It was a chamber similar to the one he'd seen earlier, the one that had housed what he assumed to be failed clones of Ada Wong. He'd seen the "Birthday" tape, the horrid, frightening images of "Ada" being birthed from a sack of ichor and husk. Every frame had made his skin crawl. Now that he thought about it, there had been a ring in one of the final shots. He'd thought it looked familiar. It had the same insignia on it as the door and key card. Perhaps he'd seen the design before, but for now, he couldn't focus long enough to figure it out. 

"Shit." Leon glanced around once more before lowering his gun. There were more viral abominations in this room, though they looked to be long dead. Some had begun to decay, their slime dripping through a small drainage grate in the floor. The smell was horrendous. On top of the usual BOW stench, the decaying corpses were leaking a darker, more potent version of their usual goo. Leon had smelled a lot of bad things during his career, but this took the metaphorical cake. He pulled his shirt up over his nose, grumbling to himself about the cost of dry cleaning his jacket. 

There was a large monitor set up in the back of the room, surrounded by wires that ran down to a chunky old PC tower and a VCR player. There was another tape lying beside it, just like the one he'd found earlier. Picking it up, Leon let his eyes skim over the label. It read "Obedience Test #3 - Subject LSK-05".

"Huh?" He frowned at the tape. His initials..? A spike of dread shot up his spine, but he pushed the tape into the VCR, eyes flickering up to the monitor. It came to life with a dull buzz, static crossing the screen before it cut to an empty room. Abruptly, the camera panned left, focusing on one of the cocoon-like shells that the infected spawned from. A loud crack emanated from the speakers, and on screen, a gush of fluid soaked the floor. Pieces of the carapace fell away, and desperate, clawing hands emerged, digging their way out. A body fell from the remnants, soaked in ooze and trembling. The person- _thing_ \- turned, looking at the camera.

Leon felt his stomach sink down into his shoes. He was staring at his own face, blond bangs wet and plastered to his double's forehead. The camera zoomed in, slowly panning up his body. Every detail was correct, a pristine, perfect copy of the DSO's top agent. The only thing missing was the scar on his shoulder from his run-in with Annette Birkin. Perhaps the most irritating thing was how deliberately the camera focused on his cock, lingering between his legs before moving on to his pecs. It eventually settled on his face and shoulders, the clone looking around nervously, as if it wasn't sure what to do.

Leon sort of understood that feeling.

He was still dumbstruck when another figure moved into frame, face hidden from the camera. It was the same hand he'd seen in Ada's video, adorned with the same ring. It reached out, tipping his clone's chin up and caressing his cheek. The rustle of clothing made Leon's stomach begin to churn, turning into full-blown nausea when a hard cock slid into frame, rubbing messily against his clone's face. Egg-Leon barely reacted, staring up and out of frame, presumably at whomever was playing with him. Their fingers pulled gently at his chin, coaxing him into opening his mouth. He did so, obediently, sticking out his tongue and barely flinching as he was fed inch after inch of cock. Throughout it all, he never broke eye contact, his gaze bordering on loving.

Leon had to turn away, gagging at the sight. He stumbled over to a nearby table, bracing himself on it while lewd sounds continued to fill the room. He felt like crying, throwing up, and getting drunk, though he wasn't sure in what order. When he gathered a bit of strength, he looked to his right, into one of the broken-open pods. Inside of it sat his clone, still and cold. It wasn't nearly as decayed as the rest, its features still plainly visible. Most notably, the streaks of dried cum that covered its face and thighs.

Leon threw up, ducking away from the pod. He clutched his stomach, trembling with anger and shame. Whoever did this was one sick bastard. How did they manage to clone him? He knew the DSO had samples of his DNA on file, but surely they were protected somehow, it shouldn't be possible for someone to just… take them, right?

He looked back up at the screen, just in time to see cum splatter across his clone's face. The virus-laden Leon clone licked his lips clean, scooping up gobs of semen as he did so. He turned back to the camera, going eerily still as the unknown person stroked his hair.

The tape ran out after a moment, turning the screen into a vibrant blue expanse. Leon stared at it for a long minute, gathering himself. He couldn't figure out who would do this, who would be so _perverted_ as to clone him for the express purpose of sex. If they were so inclined, could they not have just asked him directly? He wracked his brain as his stomach continued to churn, trying to think of any advances that he'd shot down.

No one came to mind. He was sort of desperate for affection anyway, it was difficult for him to say no to the promise of some heavy petting and an orgasm. 

On shaky legs, he stood up, stepping around the pile of vomit and heading back to the desk. He ejected the tape, staring at the label as he weighed his options. He could keep it as evidence, allowing all of his superiors to watch a carbon copy of himself be molested, or he could destroy it and take this secret to his grave. After several long, deep breaths, he made up his mind. The tape was tossed into the pod with his cum-covered double, and a single incendiary grenade followed.

Leon ducked out of the room as quickly as possible, putting his back to it as he heard the grenade go off and the flames roar to life. It was gone. It was all gone. His knees quaked, but he forced himself to remain standing, desperate to continue on and leave all of this behind him until he could get drunk enough to cry it out.

"Leon?" His communicator buzzed to life, startling him.

"Yeah?" He was quick to answer, not wanting to worry Helena.

"Did you find anything?" She asked.

"Nope." He ignored the way his voice wavered, hoping she wouldn't notice. "It was a dead end."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter @pointofdespair


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